The Taste on Your Tongue
by go-ahead-and-try
Summary: Drunk/Sloppy Kiss from the Kiss Meme by Insanity-24-7 on dA. Rated for cursing.


**Prompt: Drunken/Sloppy Kiss**

**Universe: _Harry Potter_**

**Pairing: Michelle x DeathEater!Amara**

**HP - HP - HP**

She knew she shouldn't worry. It was stupid. Her girlfriend could handle herself. Plus, her worrying wouldn't change anything. All it would do was give her a headache from stress and sore feet from pacing. She couldn't help it, though. It was in her blood. It actually did run in the family. Saying good-bye at the train station to her parents - which felt like lifetimes ago, not just a few months - was perfect evidence of that. Her mother was the fussy worrier. Was her hair all right? Was her skirt long enough? Was her scarf straight? Was she sure she packed everything? Did she have a photo of her dog? Would she remember to write? Her mothers hands would flutter about, sometimes touching her while other times simply hovering a few inches above her skin. Her father was the silent, sturdy worrier. He'd calm her mother, but he's still worry about her. He didn't need to say anything; she could read it all in his eyes and the lines etched in his face.

The door to the dorm room opened, slamming against the wall. A mumbled curse followed. Obviously, whoever had just entered hadn't meant to make that much noise. Michelle sat up in her bed, raising the covers with her hands - if not to protect her modesty, then to simply busy her hands. The door closed, though it was shortly followed by a clatter and another muffled curse.

"Who's there?" she tentatively whispered. She'd hate to wake up her other roommates, but she could feel her heart pounding. This was really beginning to scare her. When the curtain surrounding her bed was wrenched away, she could barely contain her scream. She stuffed the edge of her quilt into her mouth, sharply biting down and trying to strangle her scream in her throat.

"Hey, baby," a hoarse voice whispered. Along with the whisper came the distinct scent of whiskey and rye. Gagging slightly, she sorted past the scratch in the voice and pieced together who it was, combining the voice and the uncommon drink.

"Amara!" she hissed. "What are you doing?" The silhouette climbed into her bed, revealing in the moonlight that it was, indeed, her girlfriend Amara. The scent of whiskey and rye grew as she crawled closer to Michelle. The scent was clouding her senses, making it difficult to breathe. Even her eyes were tearing up at the stench. "Get out of my bed, Amara!" she demanded. "You're smashed, not to mention breaking curfew and - most likely - a few dozen other rules."

"Who gives a fuck?" Amara giggled, lurching to the point where she had her girlfriend pinned against the headboard. "I didn't get caught. That's all that matters, really. Plus, the revel was loads of fun. Fuck. The booze was so good."

Michelle bristled, blood rushing to her face as she leaned towards her blonde girlfriend. "You were at a revel? Are you kidding me? Get out of my bed! You're smashed because you went to a _revel_. It's bad enough you kill people; coming here after celebrating death is inexcusable."

Before she even knew what had happened, Amara smashed her lips against hers. It was a hard, rushed kiss. Amara was taking for herself. Michelle froze; this was so unlike the Amara that she had always thought she was dating. Sure, she'd accepted her girlfriend was a Death Eater. But this? She put her delicate pianist hands against her girlfriend's collarbones and shoved. It wasn't effective. If anything, it just spurred Amara on. She nibbled at the aqua-nette's lower lip before soothing the bites with her tongue. Then, one of Michelle's hands flew from Amara's collarbone to the space above her own shoulder before streaking across the blonde's cheek.

That slap was just the jolt Amara's drunken system needed, apparently. Red-faced - though it could be due to the alcohol, the slap, or the ensuing embarrassment - Amara slinked out of Michelle's bed and noisily flopped down on hers. Michelle did her best to control her breathing as she wiped at her mouth. She grimaced and stuck her tongue out; her mouth tasted like whiskey, now. She quietly got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom to rinse her mouth out. She paused in the doorway, and couldn't help but smile slightly. Amara's drunken snores were slightly reassuring.


End file.
